


Pitigliano

by txnystarkimagines



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Bathtub, Corset, Doggy Style, Dominance, F/M, Italy, OBEY, Peasant Girl - Freeform, Public Beating, Ruler, Sex, Sex Slave, Slave Reader, Smut, Vampire Tony Stark, blood slave, castle - Freeform, fangs red and gold, historic tony stark, history tony stark, medieval times, middle ages tony stark, nightie, peasant reader, tony stark au, tony stark drinks blood, tony stark is a king, tony stark is in history, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txnystarkimagines/pseuds/txnystarkimagines
Summary: In the middle ages, when Anthony Stark is vampire, he develops a fascination for you and your blood.www.txnystarkimagines.tumblr.com





	Pitigliano

Pitigiliano was a town situated about fifty miles south-east of the city of Grosseto, Tuscany in the Kingdom of Italy. It had a population of around three thousand people of which only a thousand resided in the main town area. That was one of the main reasons you had chosen the town as your place of refuge.

Over the years life had been very difficult for you. Your father had been killed on a hunting trip when you were merely a child, still learning how to pull thread through a needle while your mother was with child-your little brother. It wasn’t enough that you father was no more, your mother too had passed away in premature birth months later, your brother only moments old with her.

After that day life had only went downhill. You spent seven months alone on the streets of Verona, before the Count’s men found you while searching the city for spies from Austria. There, you were taken in for questioning by the Count himself.

Eventually he had decided to take you in as maid for his wife, to be her lady in waiting. You were seven summers old at that point in time.

The countess-it would be well appropriate to say was a rather cruel woman. She had never wasted any opportunity to hit you, she was an abusive woman who loved tormenting those with ranks lower than hers.

At seventeen summers old, nearly a decade past your inheritance in the Count’s house, you had seeked the perfect opportunity to escape when a caravan of gifts were leaving for a Lord in Tuscany.

Hiding in an empty barrel on one of the carts, life had taken you to the Grosseto province. There you had stumbled into the town of Pitigiliano, surrounded by a dense forest cover on all sides it was the perfect place for you make a new life of your own, away from your past. 

[[MORE]]

For almost a year now you had been barely scraping off of what you would find leftover or thrown in the town square. With no money and no connections you had nowhere to go. 

A few months ago you had dozed off on the cobbled floor of the local market when loud footsteps had woken you up. 

“Looks like we have ourselves a brava signora here lads!” The taller man out of the two had stated.

Observing the crest on his armor it looked to you as if the men belonged to the Kingdom of England. 

“Sì, what is that you want?“ Spending ten summers in the Count’s house where various diplomats from around the globe visited, it was safe to say you had learned quite a bit of English. 

“That depends donna, how much it is that you want?” The second man smirked, his accent deep.

“Cosa intendi?” You asked confused, standing up from your seat on the floor.

“Well the bosom is adequate enough. If the puttana turns around we can do a fair examination of the behind and offer her a rate.” The first man, whom you now noticed possessed blue eyes, told the second.

Only now realising what they were meaning to say, your eyes widened in shock. 

“I am- I am non sono una puttana!” You had exclaimed.

“What are you doing here then signora? I see no other reason for a woman such as you to be here out in the streets at such an unholy hour.” The blue eyed man stroked your cheek, brushing away the strand of hair that fell into your face.

You thought through what was happening. Should you really be doing this? Giving these men what they want would mean money. That would give you means to survive. But was your honour really worth this?

“Parla cagna!" 

"Whatever it is that you desire to give, I will take gentlemen.” You looked at them through your eyelashes.

That was months ago. Even today you hadn’t collected enough money to purchase enough fruit to sell in the market and earn yourself a respectful living and a roof to live under.

“Faster puttana, or you will not get your reward.” The man towering above you bellowed, pushing his cock further into your mouth. 

You obeyed, not wanting to do this for free. Every time you sold yourself you encouraged yourself with the words that this would end. There will come a time when you will no longer have to do this.

“What is happening here?" A voice called from the darkness of the street, as you were hidden in the shadows of the synagogue.

The man who was inside your mouth moments ago quickly made himself decent, before the Kohen could actually see what was happening. 

"This woman asked me for help in tears!” The man started, as you too rose from your knees alarmed with what was going to happen.

Prostitution was a very much banned activity here in Pitigliano, it being a very religious city and you had been the only woman willing to sell your body here in the town. This meant whatever you had to do had to happen behind closed doors hidden from prying eyes.

“I was worried, and I asked her what do you want?” The man continued, now standing opposite the Jewish priest. 

“And then she bent down on her knees, asking for payment in exchange of-"The man gulped pretending to be ashamed in front of the rabbi. "In exchange of sucking my cock.”

“Rabbi no!” You exclaimed. “This is not what happened.”

“Woman you should be ashamed of yourself. This is a holy city, sex outside of martial relations is prohibited.” The Kohen preached, marching forward to grab you by the arms. 

“You will be tied in the town square, and the people will decide how to punish when the sun rises.” The priest stated angrily, dragging you to towards the main market area. 

“No per favore! Let me explain, ti scongiuoro.” You begged, trying to pull his arm to stop him from dragging you as the man who had accused followed behind.

But the Kohen paid you no heed, as both of them began to tie you around a statue. “Per favore! Ti scongiouro! Let me provide justification for what I have done.” You screamed as they began to walk away, 

“You will pay for this! Lo prometto!” You volume fell as you whispered to yourself. What had you gotten yourself into?

That whole night you spent watching the stars shine bright and then slowly fade as the sun began to rise. And with the rising of the sun the people began to come out of their houses as well. 

Hours later as mid-day approached you had been humiliated and cussed at hundreds of time, when the Kohen from the previous night approached ringing a bell to signal the town people to gather around. 

“Personne! Questa donna ha commesso un grande peccato.” He announced as the people collected around you in a circle. “Her sins are grave, last night I have found her offering her body to a man for a few florin.”

Enraged sounds of protests grew around you as the people cussed at you. You lowered your head in shame, you hands still tied to the pole above you. 

“How is it we should punish her? Teach her to never even think of committing such a heinous crime?” 

“Kill her! She is a disgrace!” A man shouted. 

“Feed he to the wolves in the woods!”

“Offer her to the gods!”

“100 lashes to the back shall teach her a lesson!” 

Various voices shouted at the same time. The priest smiled at the latter. “Do all men here agree that 100 lashes are sufficient for such a crime?” 

Sounds of approval rang throughout the town square. “I volunteer to whip her.” A man from back came forward.

You recognised him as the man from last night. Raising your head to meet his eyes you sneered. 

And so it began. The stripped you off your cape and off whatever self-respect that was left before tying your arms to a bar above, your toes barely touching the ground. 

The first whip came unexpectedly and you let out a scream as the leather burned you skin. The people cheered in joy as they watched you writhe in pain. 

After the tenth or so lash you decided you are not going to let them hear your pain as you bit down on your tongue, tears slipping out of your eyes. 

Your back was bruised and bloody, not a single spot clear of the red liquid seeping out of ever wound. 

It was around the 70th whip that you became numb to the pain. It was also at that point as hushed whispers began to grow around you. Coming back to your senses you heard the distant sound of horses running down the slope from the other side of the town square. 

The people made way as the six armoured men on the horses came to a standstill in front of you.

“Fermare!” Their leader exclaimed, his voice rising above all. “What is going on here?”

You tried to turn your head to see what was happening but the pain made it impossible, 

“This is not allowed. Public punishments are prohibited! The only court of law is Lord Stark’s throne room.” They bellowed, as two of the men came down from their horses each dragging away the priest and the man responsible for the wounds on your back.

A few seconds later you felt your hands being untied as one of the soldiers picked you up by the arms, “Where are you taking me?” You whimpered through the pain.

“Lord Stark has requested to see who has caused this havoc in town.” The soldier answered getting up on the horse pulling you along with him. The wounds made it impossible to sit and so he laid you horizontally across the horse on your stomach.

It was after what seemed like centuries of excruciating pain that the horses stopped in front of a huge castle. It was constructed on uneven ground, half of it being atop a hill while the other half that seemed to merge into the forest. With its white stoned foundation and walls, and golden towers the castle was a stark contrast as opposed to its flourishing beryl surroundings.

As the guards pushed you along the stone archways and towards the main wooden doors that seemed to reach for the skies, you noticed the people there whispering while looking at you. Most of them were dressed in rich fabrics like silk and velvet, portraying clearly their ranks which were higher than the town’s people as well as you.

The guards dragged you through dark hallways and doors, before finally reaching what looked like the atrium to you. Finally, being able to see everything with the sun’s rays streaming in from every angle you took in everything, planning any possible escapes if needed.

The castle walls-all gold, were intricately detailed with carvings of the same colours, patterns sloping up and down the various pillars. Amidst them all was a grand staircase, handwoven carpet flowing down its steps and you guessed that where they wanted to take you, and so they did. 

They led you up the stairs, and towards a door even bigger than the main entrance, on it door knobs made of gold were placed, with while the door itself was forged of iron, something very rare during those days.

The guard pushed you inside what was the throne room, comparatively dark as compared to the atrium you had just come from. Candle stands lined both sides of the aisle covered in a red and gold carpet, while a set of steps led up to the throne.

A throne on which a man was sat, his face hidden behind the shadows, hands locked beneath the chin.

“My lord,” The two guards on either side of you bowed down, pushing you onto your knees harshly along with, causing you to grunt. “My lord, this woman has seemingly caused a stir in town. We have brought her here as you wished.”

A few moments of silence passed, your pained breaths the only sound echoing around the large room.

The lord grunted, before motioning with his hands for the guards to leave. And they obeyed.

You dared not to move, your face still towards the floor, your body still kneeling. Maybe it was because you were scared of who this man hidden behind shadows was, or maybe because your wounds made it impossible to bend back up, you did not know.

“What is your name?” His loud voice echoed throughout the room. It was deep yet so soft at the same time. One could say it was rather alluring.

“Y/N L/N your grace, daughter of F/N and M/N of Verona.” You answered in a quiet voice.

“Why were your brought here?” He asked yet again.

Your breath hitched, you did not want to admit aloud what you had been doing. Your own conscious had shamed you enough for it, you did not need a King’s judgemental thoughts on you as well.

“Respectfully so my lord, I am sure you know why I am here.”

Your response seemed to have angered the man as he got up from him throne, making his way down the steps towards you, his steps heavy. 

“Look at me.” He ordered, as he now stood above you. 

You did nothing but stare down at his leather boots that peeked through his red velvet robe. 

“I said look at me.” He ordered in an authoritative tone. 

And so you did, not wanting to bare any more consequences than you would already have to. 

Your lips parted at the sight before you. This man was beautiful. His skin clear on any fine lines, lips as red as wine, surrounded by an obsidian beard. But that was not it, his eyes brown reflected the flames of the candles creating a glint you were unable to understand.

“Why are you here?” He asked one last time. 

“My lordm, I-“You hesitated.

“Go on, I won’t hurt you.” He reassured, still towering above.

You weren’t too sure about it thought.

“I was found with man last night.” You finally told him. 

His eyes darkened. 

“And what is so wrong with being a man, that you were whipped?” He asked, walking behind you as he took a look at your back.

The Lord sucked in a breath, but it was not the thought of what you had endured that effected but your blood. Oh so very sweet and still seeping through the gashes.

“It is my lord when you are not married and being paid Florin for it.”

He hummed in response, still behind you but now he too was bent down. How did you know? You could feel his breath against your neck. 

“What is it that I should do them, puttana?” He whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. You flinched.

“My lord per favore!” You begged. “I had no other choice.” 

“Did you?” 

And then you felt his lips against your back, his wet tongue licking away some of the blood. 

You screamed in surprise, stumbling forward and falling down onto your back. And then whimpered in white hot pain once. 

“Delicious.” He grinned, looking at you straight in the eyes.

You swore you could see little red freckles developing in his eyes.

“What-what did you?”

“I can provide solution to your problem little girl. You need a safe place to live, need you not?”

“Yes, yes I do.” You stammered, still not fully understanding what this man wanted from you.

“I can offer you a place here.” He looked down at you, “But that requires payment.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Why was this man, the man who was the ruler of a town, and abundant with riches, offering you-a measly peasant girl a place to live in his castle? 

“Why? What payment?”

“It is a matter of gains, darling.” He knelt down next to you, brushing away the strands of hair that fell into your face. “I want you.”

“What?” You mumbled, still confused.

“This payment. “He growled, finally loosing what little control he had left. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, as dark purple veins developed under his now glowing eyes, fangs coming into his mouth which he immediately stabbed into your neck, as he held your head in his large hands.

Your hands moved forward to try and push him away but only manage to pull at his hair. He chuckled into your neck, now pulling away. His red lips were now covered in an even redder colour.

You crawled back on your hands, trying to get as far away as possible. He let you do so, still staying in his position. 

“What are you?” You asked, trying to control the tears, your bloody back now against the marble steps below the throne. 

“I am your worst nightmare, love.” He smirked, his fang shining in the light. 

“What do you want?”

“As I said,” he flashed over in a blink of an eye to where you were as you squealed in surprise yet again, “We can help out each other. I offer you bed in this castle _and _heal your back, and in return you will give me your blood.” 

“You are a monster.” You sobbed, scared.

“Shhh.” He placed his finger on your lips, “I know.” He chuckled. “Now drink.” And as he said so, he bit into his wrist, with his very own fangs. 

“No!” You protested. You could never do this disgusting deed. This man was evil. A monster, a demon from hell, a vampire! A creature there were only myths of. How could this be true? You must be hallucinating after the whipping and from the pain, you thought to yourself. Yes that must be it. 

“I said. Drink.” He growled, his eyes flashing red as he pressed his wrist against your lips forcing you to swallow his blood. 

You did as he asked. The man had given you no choice, fearing for your life you had complied. His blood was surprisingly sweet, like wine. It was intoxicating really. As soon as the first few drops slipped down past your throat you could feel the pain in your back subsiding. What was this? Magic? You wandered. 

“That’s enough now darling.” He pulled his hand away. Surprisingly enough you found yourself wanting more. His blood was addictive, you felt your mouth drying with the absence of said liquid.

“Sleep.” Lord Stark ordered, looking directly into your eyes, his pupils dilating. His smug smile and bloody lips the last thing in your sight as you slipped into unconsciousness.


End file.
